


[wet] part 2

by realjane



Series: [wet] [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane
Summary: Draco chickened out on his promise to Hermione back in Wales. When desire gets pent up like that, how long can a man go on before he finally breaks down?*Draco's perspective*
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: [wet] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713055
Comments: 16
Kudos: 88





	[wet] part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Here be smut! This part is from Draco's perspective. :)

Back-lit from the sconce outside the door, she was an angel. She smiled at him like they shared an intimate secret. Which, in a way, they did.

Her flirtation with kleptomania.

Their little Welsh escapade. The electric spark.

Being wet.

The way they left things in Wales had sounded quite definite. Hermione had told him something that had been ringing in his ears ever since:

_Everything in my life has always pointed to you._

What does a wizard do with an admission like that? Fall at her feet and beg? He had said he would seek her out when they were back in London for a proper date... he hadn't. Her words had paralyzed him. The witch of his dreams had made him an offer no man in his right mind would refuse… What happened to the bravery he had summoned in the cavern?

Draco would be asking Minister Shacklebolt to reimburse their trip to Wales in the budget meeting this morning--a ruse to explain why the scroll disappeared. He sighed. He was risking his reputation for a woman who liked him, and he wasn't brave enough to ask her out. Draco had sent her several memos in the course of the week so they could get their story straight. Hermione had returned each memo signed with a torturous, languid _‘XXX’_. 

She didn't push him about what they had shared in the cave, or try to make him talk to her face-to-face. She gave him space. Part of him wished he had let her apparate them home from Wales and... seal the deal, so to speak. 

"Draco. Draco. Draco!"

He shook his head and his cheeks grew hot. "What did you say?"

"I knew you weren't listening," she laughed. "I asked if you're comfortable with the presentation."

 _With the presentation? Yes. With the way my collar is closing around my trachea? ...less so._ Draco shuffled his papers and tapped the stack together. "Oh. Yes. I'm fairly certain the committee will approve our proposal. Longbottom assures me the Minister has a soft spot for you." Boy, did he understand. He allowed himself to look her over. Hermione was marvelous; she wore a burgundy half-cloaked robe with a flirty skirt, which offered a peek at the turn of her calf.

She pushed off his door and held out a file to him. "I've got some insurance. In case I'm not charming enough." Her hip swiveled to the side as she bounced on a punctuated challenge--when did she start wearing heels? Her face said everything as her mouth pursed. Draco's knees went wibbly. 

_Well? Are you going to make her walk all the way over here, man?_

Draco cleared his throat. He straightened his robe and dared himself not to break her white-hot gaze. He skirted around his desk and grasped the folder, but she didn't let go. She stepped into his bubble. Her eyes flicked up to his and his office door swung shut.

"I missed you," she whispered.

He let out a desperate breath and her grin widened. "You're trying to torture me," he gathered. "Is that it?"

"Is it working?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and snatched the folder out of her hands. "You know it is." He opened the report but her hand folded into the crook of his arm. She kissed his cheek. He shivered. Her gaze softened and her eyes crinkled with warmth. With the report before him, he perused the information--or pretended to, or tried--to no avail. He closed the file. Better to trust her over trying to comprehend anything while her hand was making little circles on his bicep.

"This will do." Draco handed the file back. She wrinkled her nose at him, and he couldn't help but smile.

Her hair draped over one shoulder. Her locks were sleeker since Wales. She tamed her brunette mane into a coiled dance, thanks to his spell. Those curls! The way they felt between his fingers... Oh, to touch them now! _Does she like her hair pulled?_

"You're looking at me like you're going to devour me," she smiled, touching his chin, "and like you're wondering if I'd mind."

"Hardly, Granger. I was admiring the style of your hair." Draco straightened. She tilted her head up to keep his gaze. Her eyes glinted amber in the yellow light.

"You lost my beloved scrunchie. I've had to make do."

Draco scoffed. "We remember it differently."

"You shoved me into a pool of black water--"

"You had just said you hated me, you daft witch--"

"After you stole my wand and held me hostage against your warm, dry body! Anyway, I've already forgiven you."

"How generous." Draco sighed. Hermione smoothed the shoulders of his robe. "So... What happened to making plans?" Her smile was gentle and forgiving.

He looked away. "Hermione, I…

"She smoothed back his hair. "I thought you weren't changeable," she said softly.

"I'm not. I'm... I'm not." The bell in his office chimed. Draco frowned. "We're going to be late." His pulse raced. Hermione crossed her arms and smiled at him again. As he gathered his papers for the meeting, she bit her lip and studied at him, head-tilted.

"Can we talk _after_ the meeting, then?" She asked.

He turned towards the door and nodded. "I'd like that."

"Good. I'd like to do other things too, which involve not talking." Hermione winked.

Draco's cheeks flushed and he smirked. "Keep it together, Granger. Anyone might think you've got a crush."

The budget meeting was always a dull affair. One member of each department attended, all vying for approval for one project or another. Usually, Draco sat on the opposite end of the table from Granger, which afforded him a prime view as she eviscerated proposals. Today, she walked into the chamber on his heels--they were clearly quite tardy, and Potter coughed in annoyance--and she took the chair beside him. The Weaslette scowled as Hermione took her seat, holding up an extra coffee.

"Pass this to Hermione, will you?" Ginny whispered to her husband. The to-go cup made its way through the mitts of twelve Ministry officials before it came to Draco. He sniffed the coffee and drank deeply. Hermione narrowed her eyes but said nothing, despite the eyebrow he raised in challenge. Nor did she take any action to save her coffee from his clutches.

The torches dimmed in the conference chamber. Minister Shacklebolt tapped on his podium. "Now that we're all here," he said, frowning at Draco and Hermione, "I'd like to call this meeting to order. We will begin with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Ms. Lovegood, you have the floor." Luna Lovegood stood and Draco tuned out.

A parade of fingers crawled across his thigh, but the palm avoided making a landing. Draco choked. He clutched the intrusive hand in his own, well-concealed beneath the table.

"Careful," he murmured.

She harrumphed. "Can't help myself. _Seven days_ , Malfoy."

"Anyone could see you."

"Bollocks. I'm _discreet_."

His mouth quirked up but he said nothing in return. He traced her knuckles with his thumb. Such soft skin.

How would he tell her the real reason for putting distance between them over the past seven days? 

Thirty-three wasn't old in wizarding years, but to his mother, who expected traditional commitments he had yet to deliver, he was on the verge of failure. He had needed six of those days to drum up the courage to tell her: he was going to officially court Ronald Weasley's former fiancee (provided he actually mustered up the courage to ask Hermione out). Narcissa had taken it on the chin, but she was not well pleased, going so far as to offer to purchase him a flat in Paris if he didn't go through with it. Draco had put his foot squarely down as the sole Malfoy heir.

 _It is not for you to decide, Mother,_ he had said. _I'm not asking your permission. I thought I would at least do you the courtesy of hearing it from me, instead of reading about me snogging her in the middle of Hogsmeade from a good-for-nothing tabloid. The Prophet will have a field day when we go public!_

 _How will this make us look?_ Narcissa had asked, with one lone crocodile tear tracing the edges of her boney visage.

_Like I finally got some sense._

_Thank the gods your father isn't alive to see you waste your life like this._

_What do you want me to say?_

_She's not of the right blood, Draco. What will this do for the future of our family?_

That had rankled more than anything else his mother had to say. Hermione had bled on the rug in the Manor during the war. Her blood was red, same as his. Besides, who knew if ever they'd have children, or if things would progress further than a few dates? He was the one with a black mark on his arm. If anyone was worth shaming, wasn’t it him? Still, at the risk of losing his mother, he was resolved. His conscience was clear.

Hermione wiggled her fingers in his vice grip--Draco squeezed the life out of her hand remembering how he had left things with his mother. Tenuous, but firm. He was certain about Hermione. In concrete terms: no holds barred, it's Her or nothing. She pulled her hand out of his, and touched his shoulder.

"Earth to Malfoy," Hermione whispered. "You're up."

Draco stood abruptly. "Draco Malfoy, Department of Magical Artifacts. On behalf of myself, Neville Longbottom, and in partnership with the Department of Hexes, Curses and Charms--" he gestured to Hermione, "--I'd like to request retroactive reimbursement for a two-man investigation of the Welsh druidic heritage site called Caer Arianrhod, which was conducted a week ago by myself and Hermione Granger."

Minister Shacklebolt leaned against the podium, tapping his chin. "Mister Malfoy, was anyone else aware of this trip?"

 _I barely had time to put on a clean shirt before I apparated._ "Longbottom was aware, and prepared with a secondary team if we failed."

"Why didn't you propose funding prior to your... investigation? Seems like you're wasting our time," Potter said, leaning back in his chair. _Aurors_. So self-righteous.

Draco rolled his eyes. "The whereabouts of the location were sensitive."

"In what way?" The Minister raised his eyebrows.

"If I may--" Hermione stood, touching Draco’s elbow. "I have recently discovered that my lineage can be traced to Arianrhod." She opened the folder Draco had tried and failed to read and held out a concise family tree, which she proffered for the Minister to peruse. Shacklebolt levitated the scroll to inspect it. _This was her insurance plan? Shit._

"We cannot pay for personal missions, Hermione," scoffed Ron Weasley. The red-head was the representative from the Department for Magical Transportation. Draco was thankful that his business rarely required him to interact with the Weasel. 

"This is highly irregular!" Auror Potter added. Several members of the group grumbled their agreement.

“Should’ve known you’d find fault, Potter, given your total lack of consideration for _any_ project that Granger puts forward. We are _well aware_ that this is an abnormal case." He gritted his teeth, turning on Weasley. "And if you read the proposal you would see that, Weasel--." A wave of calm settled over him and he looked at Hermione. She raised her eyebrows and gave him an apologetic half-smile. Was that... a charm? She _charmed him_? When he remembered what it was like to be perturbed again, he would have something to say about her charming him during a meeting. Who could be bothered? Draco ceded the floor to Hermione with a pleasant smile and a bow. She nodded to him.

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy. It was important that this information remained classified until I made contact with my estranged parents," Hermione said. "As you know--" She glared at Weasley and Potter, respectively. "They live in Australia and have no knowledge of me, or our world." Draco yearned to grasp the subtle curve of her shoulders as they slumped. He didn't know this. Weasley's face flushed. _Good_ . He _should_ feel bad--he probably didn’t even know what it felt like to be so near Hermione Granger. Draco propped his head up on the table and smiled at her. She had a nice voice. 

"Once I retrieved a blood sample from my mother, noted on the tree as _Helen Granger_ , I confirmed my hypothesis. My matrilineal line descends from the druidess in question, Arianrhod. My genealogical study is not included in our request for funding." Hermione glanced at Draco and sighed. "Though, Mister Malfoy did try to persuade me that the Ministry would be supportive."

"I concur with Mister Malfoy," Shacklebolt said. "We would have gladly supported you in this, despite what Mister Weasley and Mister Potter think. The charting of wizarding family lines is worthy of our focus." A general rumble of agreement moved through the room. Both Potter and Weasley sank back in their seats.

 _This is the best day of my life!_ Draco thought. He stifled the urge to pump his fist, or Merlin forbid _giggle._

"Thank you, Minister," Hermione said. "I am sorry we hid the subsequent journey to Wales from you. In any case, we discovered the burial location of my relative at Caer Arianrhod, in Gwynedd."

"Not only that, but a son buried with her," Draco added. In his charmed state, he felt like clapping in delight--but he resisted that much, at least. He'd have to have a word with Hermione about making him feel like this! How did she make him float, anyway? Hmm... wasn't she so beautiful? Those cheeks... so round and smooth. He should stroke them. With his fingers. One hundred times. And then the rest of her skin. He--

"Are you alright, Mister Malfoy?"

The icy, stark sensation of the charm leaving his body descended on Draco and every eye in the room staring at him. He couldn't help but redden. "Yes," he coughed. Hermione didn’t dare look at him. Oh... she was going to get it.

"Very well," Shacklebolt chuckled. "How did you come to know of this potential burial site?"

"My mother taught me a poem about Caer Arianrhod," Hermione said. "She was a native Welsh speaker. With Officer Malfoy's help, I was able to confirm it is a real place, well-known amongst locals. And, the poem is not a poem, but an epitaph above the tomb of Arianrhod. The shrine isn’t a new discovery after all, but... it is important to me."

Shacklebolt hummed in interest. "What sort of compensation are you requesting?"

Draco pointed to his own folder, which now sat in the Minister's hands. "You'll see there a list of equipment which we lost in an accident, as well as a few personal effects." A concerned murmur bubbled through the room as the proposal was passed from witch to wizard around the table. "Rest assured we were both unharmed."

"Malfoy saved me from drowning."

"Yes, I did." Draco tried not to laugh but it was hard when Ginny Weasley-Potter was staring with her mouth agape like an orange koi fish.

"It says here one of the items lost was a... scrunchie?"

"My favorite one."

"I see." Minister Shacklebolt. "I'm satisfied. You're asking for so little, I don't see this project taking funding from any other worthy proposal. All in favor of approving this proposal, say Aye."

The room was generally agreed and made it known with their successive: "Aye! Aye. Aye." Even Potter was amongst them.

"All opposed?"

None spoke up. Weasley had abstained. Good riddance.

"Officer Malfoy, Officer Granger, your proposal is approved."

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. Beneath the mahogany table, Hermione gripped Draco's knee so forcefully her nails bit little pin pricks through his trousers... which was oddly calming. Arousing? Yes. Both. Draco couldn't decide if he was more proud of them for selling their ruse, or livid with Hermione for jeopardising it with her hasty calming charm. And what was all that about her family tree? That couldn't possibly be true. He was anxious to question her about it. Very. _Alone_. He undug her claws from his leg and interlaced their fingers, worrying the softest part of her wrist. She subtly leaned her shoulder against his.

Once the meeting had adjourned, the officers dispersed; Hermione's hand was ripped out of his by an insistent yank from Ginny. She had but a passing second to cast him a frown of apology and retrieve her coffee cup. _Later_ , she mouthed. Draco repressed a growl and let her go. For now. Potter dragged the Weasel out of the room. He had a feeling that neither of Hermione's oldest friends would let this go without a fight, or react favorably to seeing them together once they had a chance to talk. What would they say?

 _Can I, in good conscience, alienate her from her friends?_ He was left alone in the chamber with the Minister, staring down at the table. He stood and sighed. What a mess.

"Mister Malfoy, just a moment." Shacklebolt collected his files and patted Draco on the shoulder as he passed. " _Interesting_ work with Ms. Granger. Should your departments continue to collaborate, I hope you'll have all future excursions approved before your departure?"

Draco carded a hand through his hair. "I am sorry we sprung this on you. You know I don't flout protocol lightly."

"No indeed." Shacklebolt shook his hand. "Though, it was _quite_ a proposal. Such effort, for such little reward!"

"I don't follow." Draco took his file back from the Minister, who grasped him by both shoulders.

"You asked me to compensate you for a lost _scrunchie._ "

"Right." Draco blanched.

"Frankly, Mister Malfoy, I didn't expect you to go to such lengths for a woman, even if she is Ms. Granger. I would've paid for you to take her out in London if you had asked." He chuckled. "But, let us say no more about _that_. I will allow you to cover for Ms. Granger this once and only once, are we clear?"

"Crystal," Draco coughed.

"Should you permit another valuable item to be lost, you'll find me less understanding."

Draco stammered. "I-I don't know w-what--"

Shacklebolt held up a hand. "Mister Longbottom may excel at keeping his partner's secrets, but he left confidential papers about a certain project out on his desk where anybody could read them. You had an artifact in your protection, did you not?"

Draco was silent. _Here we go._ He shook his head slowly. They were caught.

"It would behoove you to tell me the truth while I'm giving you a chance without professional consequences."

"Yes," Draco breathed. "I was studying artifacts in our stock that had never been identified or investigated by my predecessor. There was a scroll."

"Aha. I am assuming Ms. Granger came into possession of said scroll and fled to Wales by herself."

"Yes, sir."

"And... you followed her."

Draco calculated his next words. What were the right words, anyway? "Granger does not do things by halves. When she believes in something, it has merit. To her own detriment--If I had not caught up to her at the moment I did, she would have drowned." Draco sighed. "Believe me when I say the site is what we said it is. It's a burial shrine, but nothing more."

"Ms. Granger's claim of blood relation to this Arianrhod... is it honest?"

"I believe so." He didn't, but why dig Hermione into a deeper hole? Especially when she was going to have to answer for many things when next he could get his hands on her.

"What became of the artifact?"

"The scroll was lost in the water when Granger fell."

"I see." Shacklebolt sighed. "You know by now I have every confidence in you." He did. Kingsley Shacklebolt had testified at his trial and helped ensure his mother wouldn't face any time in Azkaban. Shacklebolt advocated for him before Draco even believed he was worthy. This man was the only reason Draco had a job. Draco nodded. "I value your work. But for neglecting an artifact and letting it be destroyed, I'm afraid I will have to give you a week of unpaid leave. I expect you to take that time in quiet contemplation."

Draco's heart sank. "I see."

"I will let you tell Ms. Granger of her own suspension. If you take the full week to... realign your priorities, shall we say? Then this infraction will stay between us." Shacklebolt clapped him on the shoulders once more.

"Alright," Draco said. "I understand."

"I mean it, Draco." He leveled his eyes with him. "I'm not keen on punishing you, but the Wizengamot is. You have to be above reproach from now on."

"I will be." Draco straightened and held out his hand to the Minister. He was chastised and embarrassed.

"Glad to hear it. You have an hour to clear out of here before I give Potter and Weasley the satisfaction of your eviction." The Minister gave him a conspiratorial smile and shooed him away.

Draco turned on his heel and strode for Hermione's department. Hexes, Curses, and Charms was located one floor below the conference chamber and his office. It was the most likely place she had retreated after their presentation, given that the Weaslette was on her case. Bollocks... Draco pressed the button to the lift. He cracked his neck in preparation for the stares. He wasn't much liked in her department, given how critical he had been in the past of the DHCC. They were gifted curse-breakers but _elementary_ translators, which gave him no end of frustration as the head of several projects which required translations from the DHCC. Anyhow. Seeking Hermione out there, their beloved top researcher, would cause a coup.

He groaned. _What's a little more embarrassment, at this point?_

Screw it.

The doors opened and Draco scowled. His boots clacked on the tile, echoing off the granite walls. "Hermione Granger?" he asked the receptionist quietly. She pointed towards the back of the long room. That would've been adequate direction, if every head hadn't popped above its cubicle wall. "Thank you." Draco gave the receptionist a curt nod. The walk to the end of the hall was like a march to the gallows. Every witch or wizard in the department stood.

At the final infernal square of cubicles, her name glinted off a placard. Bugger. She didn't even have a closed office in which he could dress her down for her insolence... or whatever he planned to do. He hadn't fully worked it out, between the charm thing and the week's unpaid leave thing.

Only she wasn't there. Draco stepped inside her cubicle and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Gratefully, a burble of indistinguishable chatter rolled over the tops of the dividing walls. He took a moment to make a plan. _Where in Salazar's name did Ginny take her?_ She could be anywhere in the Ministry. Merlin forbid she was sitting in his office, waiting. Probably with a smug smile on her face, reapplying her lipstick in a compact she had hidden somewhere upon her person.

He tore a note card from a pink flowered deck and blotted her quill in her inkwell.

_My office. Now._

_XXX_

Draco replaced her quill and stood. The department quieted again. Gods, he hated that.

By the time he made it all the way back upstairs to his own office, he was exhausted, mortified, and desperate for Hermione to walk back through his office door. She had a half hour to find him before Potter and Weasley would get to escort them out, according to his pocket watch.

Ten excruciating minutes later, his door slammed open on its hinges. Hermione scrambled inside, shutting the door and turning the deadbolt. She was out of breath and flustered, holding her spiked heels in one hand. Cheeks flushed. Her capelet had come unbuttoned. His mouth went dry.

"Thank the gods for your note!" She gasped. "I've been trying to escape Ginny. She stole me away before I could apologize for--"

"For humiliating me?" Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Hermione winced. 

"Yes--and to thank you for going along with it. I should've told you about my plan much sooner."

"I don't see what choice I had. Was charming me also part of your plan?"

"That was a bit of... improvisation," she admitted. "But really, you shouldn't let Ron and Harry rile you up like that!"

He leaned forward. "Me? They are intentionally contrary about everything that _you_ do!"

"I can handle them, Draco. I've dealt with them for almost twenty years!"

"You have to speak up for yourself more in these meetings."

She dropped her shoes on the floor and braced her hands on his desk. "Fine, but you can't fight all my battles for me in the meantime. You have this insane compulsion to protect me, and no discernment for when it's appropriate!"

"I can't just sit there and listen to them crow--"

" _Hence the charm!_ "

Pointed knocking sounded on his door. "Hermione Jean Granger!" It was the Weaslette.

Hermione closed her eyes and groaned. "She won't let up! Pregnancy has made her relentless!" 

Draco raised an eyebrow. "So talk to her."

"I'm begging you! Make her go away."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not supposed to fight all your battles for you." 

"Yes, but just this once?" She clasped her hands together. "She'll listen to you. I think. _Please._ "

He frowned at her. "I'm assuming all of that rubbish about your family tree was a lie. You cast a charm on me with every department in the Ministry there to witness it. _Both of us_ have been put on a week of unpaid leave. So. I don't know what I can do to help you, Ms. Granger!"

She pressed her eyes shut. "Shit," she whispered. "I really made a mess of this." Ginny's insistent knocks continued.

" _Then_ ," Draco continued, "in order to find you and beg for an explanation, I walked the entire length of your department while they all gawked at me and gasped like I'm a bloody Dementor."

"They're a bunch of busybodies!"

Draco stood. He had to get closer to her. His skin was vibrating with the need to touch her, despite how utterly annoyed he was. "I _was_ going to apologize for being distant this week and ask you to join me for dinner to continue our conversation from earlier. But that would be too generous, don't you think?" He put his hands in his pockets so he didn't grab her.

"So help me, Malfoy, you owe me a latte!" Ginny called from the other side of the door. "If she won't tell me what's going on, you sure as Salazar will!"

Hermione gripped the lapels of his robe in desperation, closing the field of energy between them. "I will do anything, just name your terms."

Draco's eyes darkened as they were wont to do when deciding whether to pounce on Granger. This blinding woman… how could he pretend like he didn’t want her desperately, every single moment? "That's an awfully dangerous thing to offer a man to whom you owe _much_."

" _Anything_ ,” she asserted, standing up on her tiptoes and leveling their gazes, “including public humiliation."

"Terms accepted." Draco unlocked his door with a flick of his wrist and hauled Granger against his body, hiking her up to sit on the desk. _Finally!_ His body thrummed and a zap of energy surged through them, as it had done in Wales at the shrine. The Weaslette burst through the door as his mouth descended on Hermione's willing lips, her fingers carding into his hair.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Ginny shrieked. Draco released Hermione enough to glance at the screaming redhead.

"Was there something you wanted?" He traced the curve of Hermione's hip with one finger. She shivered.

"Gross!" Ginny pretended to vomit into his garbage bin. "How long has this little... _whatever-this-is_ been going on?"

Draco considered Hermione. She seemed to have regained sense in favor of leaning into his chest and smiling. "I don't see how it's your business." He pressed his forehead against Hermione's. 

"I hope this means you're done avoiding me," Hermione whispered. 

"Just try and get rid of me."

She brushed his cheek with her thumb. "Ginny, could you give us a minute or two?"

"Ronald is going to have a coronary," Ginny huffed. "If I had known you were avoiding me for a _sexcapade_..." She pulled the office door shut behind her but Draco could still make out her silhouette through the glass. He turned back to the witch in his arms and pressed into the apex of her thighs, causing her skirt to rise and pool on the cool wood of the desk.

"I really am sorry about the charm," Hermione said with a soft gasp. 

Draco tucked his fingers under her chin and hovered his lips above hers. "You are very fortunate I didn't quack like a duck," he said. 

"It's just a calming charm. You wouldn't have done anything out of character."

"I felt like I was _high_."

She sat back and laughed. "How do you know what being _high_ feels like?"

"I was once a teenager." Draco shucked off his outer robe; he grew warmer with each moment he touched her. 

She smiled brightly. "So... a week's suspension, huh? Whatever will we do with our time?"

Draco unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. "I know what I'll be doing. _You_ will be thinking of a myriad of ways to make it up to me." He braced his hands on either side of her, pinning her to the desk. " _After_ you do 'anything' for me, as promised. I'll let you decide what that entails." 

"Meaning?" Hermione pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and looked up at him with heavy eyelids. His fingers ghosted up the sides of her thighs. She wasn't wearing nylons, bless her. Her skin felt like silk.

"We have ten minutes until Potter and Weasley kick us out of the Ministry."

"I see." Her fingers found the top button on his collar and she flicked it open. "That's not much time for what I want."

"That entirely depends on what you want, Granger," he breathed. Her nails ghosted down his chest and landed on his belt buckle. She raised an eyebrow and when he made no protestations, she kissed him. Intoxicating, open-mouthed drags against his lips.

His forehead fell to her shoulder as she unbuckled his belt. He breathed out sharply; her little talons tickled the bare skin beneath his waistband. _Oh, gods,_ Draco thought. _I'm in Heaven._

"Why--" Hermione whispered against his temple, "--did you avoid me all week?" She freed his shirt and unbuttoned his trousers.

Draco curled his fingers under her arse. "Unfinished business." He licked the skin beneath her jaw and studied the way she gasped as he sucked on her pulse point.

"You're not talking about a woman, I hope." Hermione punctuated her plea by skimming her fingers across the band of his briefs, causing Draco's hips to spasm forward into hers. He tugged at the sides of her knickers and put his hand at the small of her back so she could lift her and pull the lace down her legs. Well, he _was_ talking about a woman, but he forbade himself from thinking about his mother when his cock was pressed against _this_ woman.

"I told you; I haven't been with anyone in ages."

Hermione tucked her fingers beneath his briefs. "Poor baby." She wrapped her fingers around him. He couldn't have been more aroused if he tried; she made a sound of approval in the back of her throat. She pushed his trousers and briefs far enough down his legs to liberate him from the confines of the cotton.

Draco held onto her waist for purchase. "Sweet merciful gods, you're going to kill me."

"I hope not," she laughed, wrapping her legs around him. "I still have need of you." Hermione canted her hips.

"I haven't even touched you--"

"Trust me, I'm ready." She rubbed her thumb over the head of him. It was enough to jettison him forward again. She wasn't lying--she was positively dripping.

"You bloody minx." Draco replaced her hand with his own and guided himself to her entrance. She rolled her hips and he slipped inside. He had never felt something more delicious. He kissed her slowly, every sip on her lips a mercy.

"You better get a move on," she gasped against his mouth. "We only have five minutes."

He rocked into her and hiked one of her knees over his elbow, allowing him to rut against her even deeper. In and out--gentle thrusts. "Why... did I wait... _gods_. You feel amazing."

"You were scared," she murmured. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he thrust forward. "You needn't be."

"Never again." It was a fantasy, being inside her _on his desk_ with the Weaslette just outside. He groaned as he felt her clench around him. "You're going to kill me, I'm telling you."

"Shhh." She giggled against his lips. "Ginny will hear you."

"Don't care." 

"Then fuck me already--" Draco devoured the words on her lips and pushed her backwards so she was laid out before him on the desk. He pulled her other leg up over his arm and picked up the pace. He lived for the little noises she made. Her eyelashes shuttered when he hit the perfect spot inside her. He nosed the skin between her breasts. He couldn't wait to see them, later, after... _sweet Salazar's ghost_ , she was fluttering around him. Draco willed himself to last until she came, but it had been a _very_ long time, and she was beautiful and he had _dreamed_ all week about what it would be like... he hadn't even had a clue. The dream paled in comparison. Why had he waited? Why was he afraid of this mad and utter bliss?

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged on his hair, smashing her face against his to contain a moan of pleasure as her climax hit her. He slowed his pace to get the full experience of her release. Seeing her come apart triggered the beginnings of his own; Hermione's infernal nails prickled against his scalp and a zing of pleasure shot through his body. Draco groaned into her mouth and released inside her. He collapsed on top of her with his head resting on her chest. 

Hermione laughed in drunken delight. "Merlin, Malfoy," she whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"Are you on a potion? I'm clean and everything, but I just want to be sure..."

"Yes, I am."

Draco rested his chin on her sternum. "Can I take you to dinner?"

"Took you long enough," she teased. Draco closed his eyes in shame, but she brushed his brow. "Of course you can. I hope this isn't a one-time thing, you fucking me into oblivion." 

His eyes snapped open and he felt himself twitch inside her. "Careful with your vulgar verbiage while I'm still inside of you."

"Do you like it when I say very dirty things to you?"

He kissed her cleavage. "More than I should admit. I like it when you're a bit bossy, too."

"Noted. Have I made it up to you?"

Draco sighed happily. Who was he kidding? He'd let her embarrass him daily if it ended like this... _Merlin, am I becoming a masochist?_ he thought. "I suppose. We have a week to... test it. And talk, amongst other things." He retreated from her slowly and helped her sit up. He kissed her forehead, her brow, her cheeks. Hermione folded herself into his chest and squeezed him tight.

He cleaned her up with his monogrammed handkerchief (nevermind the satisfaction he got from seeing the results of her pleasure literally dirtying his family emblem-- _good riddance_ ), and a quick _scourgify_ made certain that they were both fit to be seen outside of his office. He helped her with her knickers. He kissed her for the millionth time. 

"I feel like all I do is chase you, woman. First to Wales, and now this--do you intend on always making me jump through hoops to earn your affection?" Draco fastened her capelet beneath her chin.

"You don't need to earn what is freely given," she said with a wink. She scooted off the desk and used his arm to balance as she put on her heels. She handed him his outer robe. "But now you can say you've seen me wet."

Draco smiled gleefully. "That I have."

"Is it coercion if you punish me with sex?"

"Do you feel coerced?" He brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed her. 

"...no, I don't think I do. I would've touched you under the table in the meeting anyway, if you hadn't gotten wise." She gave him a wicked laugh.

"Is that what you were trying to do?" he asked with mock shock. "I had no idea that the fingers crawling across my leg _towards my inner thigh_ had any nefarious design."

"I'm subtle!" Hermione laced their fingers together and stood tall. A heavy knock sounded on his office door. 

Draco glanced at his pocket watch. "That will be our escort," he said. He flicked his wand and the lights in his office extinguished. Then, he opened his office door. On the other side of the threshold, Ginny Weasley-Potter stood with her arms crossed, flanked by Weasley and Potter in full Ministry regalia. Ron looked at their clasped hands and then glanced at Harry with glee. 

"I told you they're together! Pay up, mate."

" _Fine_ ," Harry sighed, producing a few galleons from his pocket and handing them over to his best mate. "If you two had held off snogging just a week longer, I would've won a Chudley Cannons jersey off Ron."

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look of utter bafflement. "I'm sorry?" Draco offered.

"It's alright, mate. I like the Harpies better anyway." Harry clapped Draco on the shoulder. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, I didn't think it would take you so long!" Ron said.

" _Ronald_ ," Ginny warned.

"What? We've been having a go for weeks trying to get him to react!"

"You should've seen your face three weeks ago when Hermione was giving her presentation on cursed Muggle items, Malfoy," Harry said with a laugh. "I really thought you were going to dive across the table and kill Ron."

"Cheers for _not_ murdering me, mate." Ron held out his hand to Draco, who couldn't help but take it in his confusion. "Really though, it's about time."

Draco shook Ron's hand in thanks... or something. Hermione squeezed his other hand. "If you'll excuse us," Draco managed, tucking Hermione's hand over his arm. "We've got dinner reservations." 

"Oh, by all means--" Harry and Ron stepped aside like two swinging doors. Ginny stepped to the side reluctantly, glaring at Draco.

"Don't let us keep you. You can walk out by yourselves, I suspect."

"You don't need our help to do that."

"The south lift delays on the fourth floor if you need more privacy--"

" _Harry James Potter!"_

"...Sorry, Gin. Just gassing up my best friend!"

"Hermione, I deserve an explanation!" Ginny shouted as Hermione and Draco beat a hasty retreat.

"I'll call you!" Hermione called over her shoulder. Ginny let out a string of profanities, but she did not pursue them.

Draco kept his hand on her back as they made their way through the Department of Magical Artifacts. He nodded cordially to his coworkers as they passed. They were demure in their curiosity. As to why Hermione Granger was on their floor and being touched affectionately by their Head of Artifacts, they didn't speculate. Nary a person gave him a knowing look which he silently thanked them for profusely. He was sure he hadn't been subtle about his affection for her in the past, but there was no need to remind him of it now.

"Draco!" Neville called from his doorway. Draco turned back to his partner. "I'll be sending you a few files for your signature, but otherwise, enjoy your vacation, mate!"

"Thanks, Longbottom," Draco said, smiling. "I think we will."

"Bye, Neville!" Hermione waved. Her old friend gave them a knowing grin, and Draco was thankful that he was the only one. Besides, he had long suspected Neville knew how he felt; he could’ve stopped the reports Draco had sent to Hermione, or insisted he go to the budget meetings instead. Neville was a fantastic partner… even if he was absent-minded.

Draco led Hermione into the lift (the south lift, but nevermind why) and wound his arm around her waist. In heels, she was tall enough to lean her head against his cheek. He considered the entire, exhausting day. He was so relieved to have everything out between them, but couldn’t help but feel like he had put himself through much unneeded strife. She was well worth the wait. Being with her… intimate with her, especially, was astonishing and in all ways _better_ than he had bargained for.

Now, he could touch her in public. In private. Without fear.

And so what if everyone knew, now? If anything, it was a relief not to have to hide his delight in her. They could be allies at work, now, especially as benefitted their departments. And who knows where it could lead them when there weren’t prying eyes?

“I don’t think your office door was locked when we shagged,” Hermione said suddenly, laughing.

“It wasn’t.” Draco squeezed her waist. “It made it hotter, I thought.”

“I agree--though I don’t know how often we should repeat it in your office if we want to remain in good standing with the Minister.”

“Fair point.” He bumped her hip with his. “I’m just… so relieved to have things… out in the open.”

"For future reference… do I have to make you angry before you'll talk about your feelings?" She rubbed the hand that warmed her stomach.

He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck. “No, I want to be open with you.” 

"Good,” she said warmly. “I meant it: everything in my whole life comes back to you. I would hate to lose you now."

“You won’t.” He hummed into her shoulder. “I… told my mother about you.”

She squeezed his wrist. “How did that go?”

He breathed out slowly and pressed the _stop_ button. The lift slowed and paused between the fifth and fourth floors. He leaned back against the wall and considered her. “Um. It didn’t go well.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” She touched his bearded chin. He held fast to her hand.

“If I am to be _fully_ open with you, I must.”

“Alright.”

He kissed her knuckles. “She… won’t be speaking to me again, as far as I know. And I’m alright with that, but I’m bloody angry with her for making me choose.” Her face fell. Draco took her face in his hands. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“But… you don’t have your mother, and it’s my fault--”

Draco pulled her into his arms. “No, it’s _her fault_. If she loved me, she wouldn’t make me choose. And I won’t give you up.”

“She’s your _mother--_ ”

“The fact that she gave birth to me doesn’t give her a right to my happiness.” Draco kissed her temple. “I deserve better than a broken family. And so do you.”

Hermione looked up at him and her eyes were full of tears. “I can’t know how you feel right now, but I do… get it, on some level. I don’t have my family. So. If you need me, I’m here.”

“I’ll be your family.” His voice was sure and strong, but he felt the prick of emotion behind his own eyes. She nodded faintly. Draco brushed her tears away. Enough of seeing her sad--it broke his heart. “So… Potter and Weasley, huh?”

Hermione’s face broke into a wide, astonished smile. “I’m just as surprised as you.”

He re-started the lift and listened with glee as she chattered away, reliving their day. They walked slowly. Conversation came easily. There would never be an awkward silence between them when there was so much joy to be found there. Draco took her to his favorite restaurant for dinner as promised, a little French bistro on the banks of the Thames. He ate up every single moment of the day with her, and when the sun had set-- _when the God star sunk below the depths_ \--Draco asked her back to his flat.

There was never a better sight than the trail of clothing she dropped on her way to his bedroom. None _except_ opening his eyes in the morning and seeing her still there beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the culmination of their flirtation! xoxo This took me ages to write--I wanted it to be right for all of you lovely readers. <3


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